


legacy kids

by minettahs_nomore



Series: old works [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Riding, Topping from the Bottom, mentioned dub-con but it's trips/baby randy what do u expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:13:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minettahs_nomore/pseuds/minettahs_nomore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman Reigns doesn't trust Randy Orton. A strange encounter with Triple H, though, makes him see the other man in a whole different light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	legacy kids

Roman doesn't trust that guy.

With good reason, too: Orton doesn't have the best track record when it comes to shit like _playing well with others_ and _basic human decency._ The last few encounters Roman's had with the guy have ended in either fighting or general Orton fuckery, which basically boils down to him doing that thing where he thrusts his ass up in the air and then RKOs you into oblivion. (Seriously, what does he _think_ that taunt looks like?)

Then a weird thing happens backstage after RAW, and it all makes sense.

* * *

 

See, Roman's not an eavesdropper. He just kind of- happens to be there, that's all. He's waiting for Dean, and he doesn't want to go look for him because the last he saw of the blond was him getting the living daylights kissed out of him by Cesaro. Roman's glad for them and all, they both deserve someone who isn't a psycho (Seth, and, also Seth), but he doesn't really want to see either of their junk. 

He's jolted out of his reverie by the arrival of their COO, complete with red tie, looking like he's going to murder someone (so, like usual).

"What are you _doing_ ," hisses Triple H, looming over Orton. Orton's sitting on the locker room bench undoing his handwraps, still in his trunks and boots a full thirty minutes after RAW ended. Roman's starting to think that he really doesn't like pants.

"What the fuck does it look like," Orton mumbles, dry. "I'm getting ready to leave." 

" _No_ ," says Triple H. "I thought I told you to stay away from Rollins." 

"Oh, so now I'm not good enough for your new boy toy? This one enough like Michaels to keep you interested, huh, Hunter?" Orton still doesn't look up at him, instead having put his head in his hands, covering his eyes. 

It's... weird. Uncomfortable.

"Listen up, you son of a bitch, I _made you_ -" he cuts off angrily. "You know what? Never mind. It doesn't matter anyway." He leans in, real close. Then he looks straight at where Roman's standing and says, "It's not like I can't make you do it if I really want to, isn't that right? I could tell you to suck me off, just like back in Evolution, and you'd drop to your knees in a _second_ , you little slut."

Roman's brain explodes. Shit, so much makes sense now, fuck. The headbutts. The weird way Orton acts around Triple H. Seth's general demeanor around Orton- shitfuckfuckshit, _Seth's_ not doing that is he? Brotherly concern washes over him before he can stop it.

"Don't act like you don't remember," Triple H says. 

Orton doesn't say anything.

Triple H laughs a little, then claps him on the shoulder and leaves.

* * *

 

It's been about fifteen minutes and neither of them has moved.

"I know you're there," says Orton. "Fucking leave already."

"I-" starts Roman, "I don't- I- was what he said true?" His stomach drops down to his feet, because, shit, this is not what he wanted, fuck, he's so stupid, _why did he ask_. It sounds really goddamn personal, fuck fuck fucking fuck he shouldn't have-

Orton laughs and looks at Roman. 

"Why," he says, low and rumbly, "you hoping I'll suck you off, too? Wondering how many morals I've got?"

Roman stares at him in shock- he's not denying anything, fuck.

"You think that-," Roman cuts off. "-you think that _Seth_ -"

Orton raises an eyebrow. "No," he says. "It was only me he tried to fuck up. Not like he tried it with Batista or something. Your _friend_ -", and that's a vicious fucking sneer, right there, "-isn't as young or as inexperienced as I was." 

"But-"

"Shut _up_ ," says Orton- no, Roman thinks, slightly detached. It's a bit weird to still refer to someone by only their last name when you now know that their current employer and former leader was sexually using them. Randy, then.

Randy stands up. 

"What the fuck do I have to do to keep you quiet?" He looks Roman straight in the eye, and as Roman's starting to say that he wouldn't tell- _he's not that much of an asshole, he likes to think. Holy fuck, what kind of people did Randy grow up around, for him to think that someone would be okay with spreading that around? -_  when suddenly Randy drops to his knees.

"Wait!" Roman panics. Randy is undoing the zipper of his jeans, what the hell.

"Shut up." Randy looks up at him from underneath his eyelashes. "Look. I'll do this for you and then we'll never speak again."

Roman freezes. Randy pulls down his boxers and warm heat envelops his dick suddenly.

Holy shit. This is really happening, Roman's life has turned into a porno-

Randy swirls his tongue and takes him all the way in until his dick hits the back of his throat, and Roman's thought dissipates immediately.  He moans, loud, and then glances up to see if anyone heard-

-and that's when Randy starts _fucking humming_.

Fuck, that's- _Roman's theme song._ He's never going to be able to listen to it the same way, holy fuck. Randy stares up at Roman through his eyelashes and Roman watches his dick slide in and out of that wet, tight mouth, all thoughts of protest having left his mind. 

Randy slips just the smallest hint of teeth in there, enough for Roman to draw in a harsh, hissing breath, and pops off his dick with one last swirl of his tongue. 

Roman is achingly hard, and Randy _knows it_ ,  and he just looks at him and smirks, licking his lips. He looks around for a second before spotting his bag and pulling something out of the frontmost pocket, then pulls off his trunks.

He opens the bottle of lotion he's pulled out and coats his fingers with it. Reaching behind himself, he makes a tiny whining noise and only then does Roman realize he's stretching himself out. Oh, they're going to- oh. Roman looks down at the condom Randy's pulled out and left on the bench, right when Randy moans really loud and mumbles, "that's it, I'm ready."

He pushes Roman down so he's lying on the bench and tears open the condom wrapper with his teeth. Roman's first thought, irrationally, is that he could have damaged the condom, but that flies out the window when he rolls it down Roman's length with his mouth. 

Roman groans, and Randy chuckles. 

"Fuck," he says, coming to sit on Roman's thighs, "you look so hot like this." He sinks down onto Roman's dick with a hiss, until he's fully seated. 

Randy's got his knees on both sides of the bench and that would look supremely uncomfortable if he wasn't still in his pads and boots. He moves himself up and down, fucking himself on Roman's dick, and it feels so fucking good, and Roman thinks,  _yeah, that's it, do it, slut,_ and he doesn't know where that last part came from and doesn't realize that he's said it aloud until Randy gives a fucking pornstar moan and starts slowing down and breathing heavy.

Roman's so close, he's almost there, so he slides out and shoves Randy against the lockers. Later he thinks he might worry about having hurt him but now that's the last thing on his mind. Randy jumps up and wraps his long, long legs around Roman's waist. He's still got his boots on, and Christ, that's so fucking hot.

Roman slides back in and starts pounding him against the lockers, not caring about noise or anything, just wanting to get off, finally, finally. He increases his pace, Randy's legs tightening around him, letting him go infinitely deeper.

Randy moans real pretty for him and Roman whispers, "you fucking love my dick, don't you," and he doesn't know where this dirty talk is coming from, but Randy clenches up around him and comes with a gorgeously wrecked noise.

Roman keeps going for a couple more seconds and then pulls out, and Randy slides down to the floor. Roman tugs the condom off and puts a hand around his dick, jacks himself until he comes all over Randy's face. Randy sits there, breathing heavy, tongue darting out to taste some of Roman's come. He wipes off his face with his hand, licking off one of his fingers, and opens his eyes just as Roman sits down next to him.

"Holy fuck," says Roman. "Jesus."

Randy grins. "Yeah," he agrees.

"... you know I wouldn't have told anyone anyway, right?"

Randy shrugs. "Maybe." He looks right at Roman. "Maybe I was just having a bad day, and thought _hey , from what I've seen in the shower, that Roman dude has a great dick."_

Roman laughs. They'll figure this out later, and he really will be a bit freaked out by Triple H's words. He'll also probably have a crisis about the fact that he _fucked Randy Orton_. And there's a part of him that still doesn't trust the other man, but right now he's not in the mood to think about it. That'll happen later; he just wants to sit and bask in the glory of mind-blowing sex for now.

"So," Roman says, conversationally, "any chances of there ever being any repeat performances?"

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry but these two look SO GOOD TOGETHER also there is a part of me that just wants someone to fuck randy orton


End file.
